


The Year of the Dragon

by TheLadyofMisrule



Category: Big Bang (Band), Super Junior, 슈퍼맨이 돌아왔다 | The Return of Superman
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-09-02 04:50:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8651683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyofMisrule/pseuds/TheLadyofMisrule
Summary: A mysterious violin protegee, goes up on stage at the MAMA awards, to pay tribute to G-Dragon, for over two decades of entertaiment. But when the lights turn on, and the soft lilting voice introduces herself, and calls him on stage, Ji Yong can hardly believe his eyes, much less his ears as he realizes, the spell-binding beauty he'd just been so entranced by - is the same little girl, who's heart he'd stolen over a decade ago.





	1. Prologue

 

* * *

 

_**PROLOGUE** _

 

* * *

  
  
She was late.

  
And it was her first award show.

  
  
Well, her first awards show as an actual performer.

 

Not to mention her first time back in the country since she’d moved away twelve years ago.

 

Almost twelve years.

 

Her heart felt like it was ready to beat right out of her chest.

 

Which was ridiculous, because while this may be her first time performing in Seoul, in her admittedly young life, she had already performed in front of world leaders and sold out stadiums.

Entertainment - it would seem, was truly in her blood.

Most people would think that it was being a child of two well-known celebrities that prompted her parent’s to send her away to her Aunt in America to get her away from the spotlight. Most people – would be wrong.

 

It wouldn’t be their fault – after all, not many people would reasonably guess that the child of a famous south Korean rapper and actress, would be stalked and hounded, not because of who her parents were – but because she, at barely six years old happened to be madly in love with another celebrity.

 

But then again G-Dragon, was not your average celebrity.

 

He was going to be out there in the crowd today. Front row seats. Her Dad had called her earlier that morning to tell her about it when he’d found out. Interestingly, Yang Hyun-suk, or as she called him YG Samchon, had decided against informing anyone exactly who this mystery performer he’d signed was.

 

The production team had been referring to her as the Lindsey Stirling of Korea, while, random snippets of information had been ‘leaked’ online – in regards to her being a Julliard trained violinist. The ‘leaks’ however had been carefully engineered. Not one bit of information came out that could actually identify her.

 

YG Samchon had been adamant, that her identity be kept a secret until the final tribute show ended.

 

After all, the world had been waiting over a decade to see what happened to the little girl who fell in love with G-Dragon’s, Fantastic Baby, back when she was still a baby – it was only right they be allowed to tune in to the reunion.

 

As for Haru - while she didn’t necessarily have the same ratings motivation that YG seemed to have, she did have a reason for wanting to keep her presence a secret till the last possible second.

 

For the past decade, Haru had sacrificed what had once been her entire world, just so she could have one moment when she could walk on stage before the man who’d always had her heart, and be more than the ‘child’ he would humor, when he came off the stage.

 

As much as she loved her parents, for once she wanted to be more than Tablo’s daughter.

 

She wanted desperately to be a woman.

 

Her own woman.

 

And maybe, just maybe – his.


	2. Coup d'état

 

                                                    

* * *

 

_Coup d'état - the sudden, violent overthrow of an existing government by a small group._

* * *

 

 

  
“So, are you pumped for the Awards, Hyung?” teased an ever-smiling Deasung, as he buttoned up, his crisp white Armani shirt, in the dressing room.

 

It’d been a while since they were all here together, after their last big album two years ago, the band had agreed to take a hiatus of sorts – T.O.P, predictably, had gone off to focus on his art collection, Taeyang had Seungri had surprisingly decided to make their respective relationships ‘official’ – which, unfortunately, hadn’t worked out quite as well for Taeyang, as he had hoped. Seungri, surprisingly however, had settled in very well, and had transitioned smoothly from Ladies man, to man on a leash in the least kinky way possible. Then again, knowing Seungri, it was still probably pretty kinky.

 

As for himself, he’d taken his time off to fully focus on his Japanese fan-base, and was arguably, one of the hottest solo artists, the country had seen in the past decade, despite what Seungri referred to as his ‘sightless visage’ – that impudent _maknae_.  
  
Truth be told, though, he’d missed him, jut as much as he’d missed all of the other members.

 

His Hyung, he noticed was still uncharacteristically quiet.  
  
Just as Daesung, had been about to put the question to him again, the doors, slammed open noisily, announcing of course the impudent imp himself, the calm voice of reason that was Taeyang Hyung and of course the art connoisseur Seung-hyun Hyung aka T.O.P.  
  
“Yo Bro! Where the party at?!”sing-songed Seungri, in his impossibly high stage voice, only to have Seung-hyun, hit him not so gently on the head, with a rolled up magazine, before he strode forward and set the unfurled magazine down in front of Ji-Yong.  
  
“Any idea, who it could be?” he asked, slumping down on the sofa beside Ji-Yong,  nodding pointedly at the headline.

  
**“YG UNVEILS SECRET PROTÉGÉE AT MAMA AWARDS”**

 

  
Snapping out of his daze, Ji-Yong shook his head distractedly.  
  
“We should talk.”

Finally, having shrugged into his dinner jacket, Daesung, shot a look over his shoulder, at Taeyang, who silently motioned for Seungri, who had been over by the mini bar – within moments the full team had assembled, Seungri crouching on the ground, flipping through the magazine – while Taeyang and Daesung took seats across from Ji-Yong and Seung-hyun.  
  
Softly, nervously almost, Ji-Yong, looked up at the brother’s he had grown from a trainee to a global sensation, with, and announced - “I think, YG is considering disbanding us.”  
  
* * *  
  
It had been a long week.  
  
Recently, his Fashion line, had been demanding more attention than he’d anticipated, and the music had just seemed to take a backseat.  
  
It wasn’t intentional – and he was far from happy about it.  
  
Somehow, in these past three years, hell even before them, a sort of blandness had seeped into the group, and him. It was part of why the team had agreed to take some time off and ‘find’ themselves.  
  
And to be fair, everyone seemed to be doing an amazing job. Everyone except him.  
  
Sure, he was still the Fashion Icon, designers sought out every Season, but as much as he loved fashion, and production – they weren’t his first love.  
  
Ji-Yong, had started his journey as G-Dragon as a rapper, as a lyricist, as man who played with all the different layers of music – and yet, not once in the past three years had he been able to summon up enough inspiration to craft a ditty for a commercial, much less an actual song.  
  
It was a discussion he’d had with YG, earlier that month.  
  
Surprisingly, it hadn’t seemed to faze the old man at all, who after a brief glance upward had suggested, that he call the rest of the group together for the MAMA’s, since he had something he’d like to discuss with them afterward.

 

Initially, Ji-Yong, hadn’t really thought much of his Boss’s oddly time request. The man was after all known for his eccentricities.

 

But ever since, that day, the weirdest things had started to happen. The production house, suddenly rescheduled a promotional shoot he’d had with Epik High’s Tablo, for Tablo’s memoir, YG himself, was suddenly evading any attempt at conversation, and just a few weeks ago, he’d caught two of the Publicists cover up a cover they’d been working on, that clearly had the Band’s Name in it’s Headline, the second he’d walked in – and those were only some of the incidents.

  
  
To top it all off, this oddly timed ‘Tribute Award” – he’d been nominated for, just seemed off.

  
  
Even his manager, had admitted that something definitely seemed to be up.

  
  
To be honest – it wasn’t truly frightening. All of the member’s were sufficiently established enough to be able to survive even if the Band did disband, and if they wanted to come together again, he could always produce the music himself.

 

But, still...  
  
They’d never really thought BigBang, would come to an end – yes, the entertainment industry was a difficult place to stay relevant in, but YG had always assured them they were family, and somewhere along the line, they must have just taken too much for granted.

  
  
Either way, he wasn’t prepared to let this go without a fight.  
  
He’d decided then that it was _time_.

  
  
They were a team – and if the rest of them were ready to start work again, he would go head to head with YG if he had to, to keep BigBang from disbanding. He owed the boys that much.  
  
He also, owed them the truth.

  
  
* * *

  
“So let me get this straight,” Seungri repeated for the umpteenth time, “You think YG is giving you the cold shoulder, and that means that they are considering taking apart, the band that literally put their name on the map?”

  
“Well to be fair, we have been in active for over three years now,” interjected T.O.P. a frustrated hand, running through what only moments ago, had been perfectly styled hair, in his now signature space grey.

“This is ridiculous!”

  
Ji-Yong, watched distractedly, just about to point out yet again, that he was only speculating, and had only told the team about his suspicions so that he knew where they stood.  
  
If, he was right - did the band want to fight it?  
  
The tiniest smile, lifting the ends of his normally expressionless lips, Taeyang, the man who was more than family to him – leaned over carefully, motioned to the bickering trio of his fellow members, “We’re a team. Always.”

 

His brow arching, almost instantly at Young Bae’s soft yet firm, declaration, Ji-Yong, for the first time in weeks, felt a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth.  
  
It was decided. Now all he had to do was wait.

 

 


	3. A Voice like Velvet

 

* * *

 

For years now, Yang Hyun-suk, the man behind the YG label, had become something of a recluse. Some people, thought it had to do with his failing health, while other’s claimed, that the old man was simply too out of touch with the ‘music’ of recent times to be relevant.  
  
The truth – was much simpler.  
  
For years, he hadn’t had a reason to come out. Sure his bands were still winning big at the Korean Awards Ceremonies, yes, like CL, before them the Rap duo _Gin and Tonic,_ had finally made it big in the American Market – and Akdong Musicians were still out touring in Japan – but the past decade had more or less consisted of YG Productions pushing the same formula.

 

And while success was one thing, the thrill of watching something new come to life, was much different.

 

As a producer, you were lucky if you got to witness just one of these events in your lifetime.  
  
He had this feeling over twenty two years ago, when he first formed Big Bang. Somehow, even with Ji-Yong’s reluctance, and Seungri’s erratic eccentricities, he’d just known that it would work.

 

The almost tangible taste of creating a masterpiece. 

  
Looking across the stage now, as Manager Kim, talked Haru through the lighting, and helped her navigate the stage - he knew, again.

 

Just as he knew, that this time, it wasn’t going to be  _his_ masterpiece to craft. 

 

 

* * *

 

The last time Haru, had played live, it had been as an accompaniment to Julliard’s Annual Presidential Orchestra.  
  
Calm, and collected – as she meticulous varnished her violin bow with a block of resin, while the rest of her class had been doing breathing exercises to calm down, her instructor, had dubbed her ‘the little iceberg’  - little because, she’d seemed to remain as vertically challenged as ever, even her five inch heels only bringing her to a modest 5’7”. 

 

Her diminutive stature however was also very misleading.

  
For, while it may be difficult to see her on a stage dominated, by men, women, and their life size instruments – it was impossible to _not_ hear her. The second her bow would touch the strings – the world as it was, ceased to exist, in that moment, Haru controlled every man woman and child inside the Concert Hall, every breath, every soft sigh, every chill that would run down their backs.

 

That was a week ago.  
  
And here she was today, about to break out into a cold sweat.

 

Swallowing fiercely, Haru adjusted, her earpiece, as she heard BTS launch into their acoustic encore.  
  
This was it.  
Breathing out softly, as she gave herself a final once over, Haru, slid her hand down the glittering matte gold bodice of her almost ethereal Vera Wang.

 

While the dress had been difficult to select, the color had been a no brainer. Gold, because, no matter how long it had been, she would always be his biggest fan.

 

Her hair was up, carefully braided into a classic performance bun, allowing her bare shoulders to be a canvas for the Ji-Yong’s own makeup team, who YG had brought in earlier that day.

 

Her hand tightening carefully over her bow, Haru smiled briefly at her own image – for twelve years, Haru, had made countless excuses and apologies, just to avoid this one man. One would think that in 12 years, she would have grown out of her breathless adoration.

 

Maybe she had. Maybe she hadn’t.  
  
Either way, she was about to find out.

 

* * *

 

To say Ji-Yong was annoyed, would be an understatement.

  
While, he knew the MAMA Awards were always a hectic time for the Production House, it was hardly impossible for YG, to manage fifteen minutes to talk to him before the show.

  
The man didn’t even attend the Awards anymore!  
  
Running a hand through his hair as he watched BTS, thank their fans, he forced himself to focus, after all today, marked one of BTS’s final performances as a group.

Seungri had mentioned earlier, that after Jungkook’s fatal car accident that summer, the group, had decided not to go on without him and announced their farewell tour this year. Rap Monster, the group’s Leader – had made the announcement himself, refusing to allow the rest of his group face the inevitable backlash.

 

After having nearly been forced to cut Daesung from the group years ago, Ji-Yong, knew, how much just the prospective loss of a brother could hurt. He couldn’t begin to fathom what the group was going through after having actually lost one of their own.

 

 He could hear the boys, still discussing their predicament in hushed tones beside him, their position at the very front row of tables, fortunately putting them out of reach of the Press. The last thing they needed was for any of this to leak.  
  
Surprisingly, it was Seungri, who put a stop to it.

 

“Look, we can discuss what may or may to happen later – Hyung, you’re the youngest person in the industry to be getting a tribute, can you please, just try to take in?”

 

A ghost of a smile turning the corners of his lips, Ji-Yong, turned ever so slightly to Young Bae, who looked back at him with raised eye-brows, his hands lifted in surrender, as his stage-whispered – “The Maknae’s all grown up, G.”

  
“Dude, I’m like in my late thirty’s.” Seungri shot back, only to be slapped on the back by T.O.P. and Daesung , as they simultaneously cooed at him.  
  
Ji-Yong, had just been about to point out that he would, always be the Maknae, when – suddenly, the entire auditorium was plunged into absolute darkness.

Then, just as a murmur of dissent started to sweep through the crowd, the soft hum of old machinery flitted through the stadium, as a massive white screen, appeared on stage – and on it, a series of pictures, that Ji-Yong himself hadn’t seen in ages.

 

Pictures, from backstage, at their first concert, to private pictures of him composing at home – it was an endless series of memories, and for a moment, he had been caught so off guard, that if not for the crowd’s soft gasp, he would have missed the soft strings of music that had started to play in the background.  
  
His eyes closing briefly, as the lull of the music forced him to tilt his head back, Ji-Yong arched an eyebrow in surprise. 

 

With the dramatic backdrop, and the theatrical lighting, he had almost been expecting it to be one of their more ballad like, angst filled songs – and yet the soft chords, being played in the background, were almost the exact opposite.

 

_Let’s Not Fall in Love._  
  
He could hear T.O.P, mutter bemusedly in the background, “Is she playing...”

 

_She?_  
  
His eyes snapping open, as he searched the stage for the performer, YG had been so secretive about.

 

She was good, he’d give her that.  How one managed to manipulate strings to almost sing, much less rap was beyond him  
  
For a second, Ji-Yong, thought he might have missed her altogether.  
  
If not for the violin in her hand, the shadow behind the projection screen, almost seemed to be a part of the backdrop. And as if just on cue, the song launched into it’s climax, and the infinite pictures seemed to come to an end, leaving behind a dully lit screen, with only her shadow and crystal clear notes – and yet somehow that seemed to be enough to get an entire stadium full of artists to sing along, like mass on Sunday.

  
_“Geudae johahaeyo.”_ he whispered almost under his breath, as the entire audience chorused the last line.  
  
A roar of appreciation thrummed through the crowd. As if in response, the floodlights snapped on, drenching the stage in blinding light. For the first time all day, Ji-Yong felt anticipation thrum through his entire body –  
  
Who was she?

 

And why had YG been so secretive about her?

 

A million questions raced through his mind.

 

And yet all he could truly focus on was the picture of perfection, standing still as a statue, just feet from him, her head lowered, carefully so as to shield herself from the still dimming lights.  
  
She was dressed, in what was obviously a breathtaking ball gown, and yet, what made it so visually jarring was the dark velvet cloak she’d draped over it.

  
  
A soft, almost delicate harmony had started behind her and almost instinctively, she seemed to arch to the music, and, then all on a sudden, with the lights still transitioning from bright white to a fiery blue, she looked up – at him.

 

She looked like a vision out of a noir movie, her dark lips, pursing sensually against the microphone as her delicately husky, and yet almost lilting voice boomed through the cheers.  
  
 _“_ _The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful_  
 _Stop me and steal my breath_  
Emeralds from mountains and thrust towards the sky  
Never revealing their depth.”

 

In his twenty plus years as an entertainer, Ji-Yong, had never heard a voice as hauntingly beautiful as the one he heard now.

  
_“Tell me that we belong together_  
Dress it up with the trappings of love  
I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips  
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above.”

 

Her eyes, never leaving his, he watched in absolute amazement as she went from crystal clear to beautifully husky in seconds, her hands caressing the microphone almost reverently.

 

_“I'll be your cryin' shoulder_  
 _I'll be love suicide_  
I'll be better when I'm older  
I'll be the greatest fan of your life...”

   
One thing was clear, in addition to being amazingly talented, this young woman was breathtakingly gorgeous.

  
_“_ _And rain falls angry on the tin roof_  
 _As we lie awake in my bed_  
You're my survival, you're my living proof  
My love is alive and not dead.”

 

And then, just when he thought nothing else she did would surprise him  - he watched in awe as the stage suddenly seemed to engulf her with a soft fog, and a soft _swish_ of her velvet cape falling unceremoniously to the floor plunged the audience into pin drop silence.  
  


_“_ _Tell me that we belong together_  
Dress it up with the trappings of love  
I'll be captivated, I'll hang from your lips  
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above.”  
  
  
As for him. Kwon Ji-Yong, was quite sure, he’d just felt his heart stop.

 

It wasn’t the perfectly fitted bodice that clung to her like wet silk, it wasn’t even the dangerously high slit that shook him though.  
  
 _“_ _And I've dropped out, burned up, fought my way back from the dead_  
Tuned in, turned on, remembered the thing you said.”  
  
High, on the curve of her neck, and then slowly, all the way down her bare shoulders, were, three perfectly entwined dragons. The soft almost clear golden sheen, of the luminescent paint, somehow deeply intimate, as it curved over her bare skin.

 

_“I'll be your cryin' shoulder_  
 _I'll be love suicide_  
I'll be better when I'm older  
I'll be the greatest fan of your life...

 

_The greatest fan of your life_   
_The greatest fan of your life..._ _._ _”_

 

It was almost, he admitted, as if she'd marked herself, as  _his._

 

* * *

 

_Author's Note: “Geudae johahaeyo.” - is the last line from Big Bang's "Let's not fall in love" and means 'I like you'._   
  



	4. Home is where the Heart is

 

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

 

As a performer, Ji-Yong, had often wondered how it was his fans ever managed to actually hear anything through the thunderously loud applause, much less the deafening cheers their mere presence on stage tended to produce.  
  
 And yet, in that moment, as deafening as the audiences applause was  - all he could hear was the slightly breathless, _‘Komawoyo.’_  
  
She was ridiculously young, with the stage lights, now back to normal – it was no longer possible to mistake that husky timbre for a more mature singer.

  
It was obvious however, that regardless of her actual age, she was already on the brink of becoming a star. Despite what they said, YG hadn’t really lost the touch.  
  
“Many of you may not know, but I actually made my debut at the Nagwon Arcade. I was about 2 and a half feet tall, and an absolutely horrible violinist – so being able to be up here in front of you today is truly an honor. Once again, ladies and Gentlemen – _Komawoyo_.”  
  
A ripple of amusement threaded through the crowd.

 

Even Ji-Yong, couldn’t surpress and amused half smile, and yet - Nagwon Arcade. Something about that nagged at a distant memory.  
  
Maybe if he’d had more time he would have remembered. Or so he would tell himself later.  
  
In that moment however, all he could see, or hear was this enchanting mystery protégé YG had apparently uncovered. Even her soft depreciatory laugh was infectious.

 

She was an amazing speaker as well, she had the crowd eating out of the palm of her hand as she  walked carelessly across the stage, almost as if she was in conversation with the audience. “But to me, you see, what is even more of a blessing – is to be able to be here to hand out this award today.  This man, started out as the model trainee, YGE still tells us newbies to emulate.” Her soft eye-roll elicited yet another amused murmur from the crowd. 

 

For a half second, Ji-Yong was almost sure she was about to launch into a trademark impression of YG, as most YG performers were inclined to – but instead, she just flashed the crowd an impish grin.  
  
A Sunbae for quite a while now, Ji-Yong, knew exactly how annoying YG could be when it came to telling his trainees to model themselves after him. They’d even had an outright fight about it once when Ji-Yong, had thought he was taking it way too far. He’d soon realized, however, that trying to convince YG of it was pointless, and had instead taken to teaching the kids, to take the comparison, as more of a joke then anything else.

 

He’d once even bribed, an entire batch of new recruits to roll their eyes every time YG mentioned him, while he’d had another batch, just pretend they had no clue who ‘G-Dragon’ was.

  
Needless to say, the hilarity that had ensued had been well worth the ‘scolding’ that had followed.  
  
Ji-Yong was still reeling from the sheer impact of that wayward smile, when she repeated her last line. And yet this time – it sounded nothing like the lighthearted  statement it had been just moments ago. “This man, started out as the model trainee, YGE still tells us newbies to emulate. And rightfully so. He was hardworking, passionate, and always respectful. It has been 22 years since, and yet those three words are still the first that you will hear from anyone, when asked to describe him.”

 

And just like that, Ji-Yong realized his eyes weren’t following her around stage anymore, she’d stopped right in front of him and turned her doe-shaped eyes to him.

 

“For while the world may know you as G-Dragon, some of us have been lucky enough to be exposed to the man underneath all the YSL, the hair color and the liner. Haven’t we?”

 

_Had she?_

 

 His hands clenched unconsciously, under the crisp white table-cloth.  
  
 _Goddammit who_ was _she?_  
  
“The person, you are, the friend, the hyung, the brother, is inspirational. It is worth emulating, it is worth, looking up to, and it is worth _loving_.  I should know, I’ve looked up to you, and loved you for twelve years now. ”

 

* * *

  
Pin-drop silence.  
  
As a violinist, Haru had always known, exactly how powerful a silent audience could be. A silent audience for a performer, was a like a blank canvas for an artist – the possibilities were infinite.

 

The fact that people were no longer whispering across aisles, trying to figure out who she was – meant it was finally time. Twisting, the bottom of her microphone to twist off the penny sized trigger button to signal the rest of the team.  
  
Instantly, huge banners started to unfurl up across the bannisters.  
  
Life size photographs of her _Oppa_ , with just some of the people who loved him.  
  


His mother. His sister. Taeyang. Seungri. T.O.P. Daesung. CL. Park Bom. YG. Winner. Fans.

  
She watched, nervously, her heart beating out of her chest, as Ji-Yong, who had finally stood up, turned carefully in his spot, to watch each banner unfurl, until he was finally facing her once again, as the last banner unfurled right above her.  
  
 _Her._

 

_“Haru?”_ his hushed whisper of disbelief almost made her laugh out loud.

  
  
“ _Annyong hasaeyo, Oppa –_ Congratulations.”

 

 * * *

_Hours Later,  
Backstage, at the MAMA Awards._

 

“Haru?! As in Tablo Hyung’s daughter?” exclaimed the voice on the other end of Daesung’s phone.  
  
To say, that the audience had been shocked – would be an understatement.  
  
Within seconds, of her announcement – the audience and the press exploded, quite literally. Haru and GDragon were trending world-wide on Twitter, and Weibo had actually crashed for a good half hour.  
  
Thank God, the Tribute had been the last Award of the night – because Daesung seriously doubted anyone could have gone up after that dramatic stage ending.  
  
Hell, he’d half –fallen out of his chair when she’d finally revealed her identity, he couldn’t imagine what his _hyung_ must be feeling. Although, given the fact that Taeyang _hyung,_ had to basically walk him to the stage, probably gave it away.

  
Once he was on stage, he was fine. He was after all, a performer first and foremost - executing his perfect ninety degree bow towards Haru, he calmly accepted the award and even made a cute joke about how she’d once tried to buy him with her father’s credit card.  
  
Almost perfectly normal. 

 

Almost, because  in reality, _hyung_ had switched from his normal voice to his slightly raspier performance voice, while his left hand was tucked carefully behind his back, clenched, into a tight fist.

 

That had been a good two hours ago.

 

Hours later, Ji-Yong, and Haru, were actually still giving their own individual interviews, while he and the rest of the Band were fielding calls from some of their friends who hadn’t been able to make it. Chaelin or as the world knew her CL, for instance, who happened to be half screaming in his ear at that precise moment.  
  
Deftly switching her to speaker phone, Daesung, handed his phone over to Seungri, as he too started to get changed out of his outfit.  
  
“But she’s a baby!”  
  
“More like she’s a _babe_.” Quipped Seungri, not even pretending to acknowledge, the death glare Young Bae just leveled at him.

 

“So is YG seriously launching her? She’s the secret protégé? Where is Tablo? How did he _not_ tell us?!”

 

“It’s ridiculously adorable though – you have to admit!” chimed in Dara, as she nicked his phone out of Seungri’s hand’s,  “That little cupcake used to have the most precious crush on G – remember the time she totally dissed Seungyoon?”

“She’s got mad chops too.” Added T.O.P, “I was talking to Henry earlier, and he was blown away by how good she was.”  
  
Daesung nodded, sagely, as he shrugged into a plain t-shirt.  
  
“And they say, you never hear good things about yourself when you eavesdrop,” whispered, a soft lilting voice from across the room.  
  
If ever there was a moment that was perfect for a candid camera shot – it would be that exact moment. The instant head swivel toward the door, while CL, whispered into the speaker, “Is that her? Is it Haru?” was literal comic gold.  
  
Biting her lower lip, to keep herself from bursting into actual laughter, Haru, titled her head to the side, as she eyed the one man she _had_ kept in touch with – and waited for him to motion for her to come to him before she practically flew into his arms, as he chuckled.

 

“It’s her, Cece.” Taeyang replied as he pressed a quick kiss to Haru’s head, before tucking her under his arm. “Don’t know why you’re all so surprised, she was bound to grow up some day, you were younger than her when you debuted.”

 

“Even if it was a million years ago.” Dead-panned Seungri.

  
Unable to hold in her laughter as CL launched into a flowery tirade against Seungri, Haru, stepped reluctantly out of Young Bae’s arms, and executed a perfect ninety degree bow, before thanking them all for their support.  
  
“I actually start my first day of training with my mentor tomorrow, so I have to go – but it was lovely seeing you all, and my Dad says to send his love!”  
  
* * *   
  
Twenty-minutes and, twenty something hugs later, Haru finally found herself driving home.  
  
Home.

  
Not the tiny bedroom she’d been living in in New York, not her dorm room in Julliard – but home.  
  
It been a long few days – and she still wasn’t quite sure what tomorrow would hold. But here, in the heart of Seoul, with her Louboutin’s, and the one man who’d always made her heart beat just a little to fast – Haru Lee, was _home_. 


	5. More than Maybe

* * *

* * *

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“No.”  
  
“And just what, does ‘No’ mean exactly?” demanded YG, his naturally nasally tone taking on a whole new octave.  
  
“Well generally,” Ji-Yong explained drolly, “It means ‘No’, as in I refuse, not interested, negative etc.”  
  
“This is not funny, Ji-Yong.”

 

“I wasn’t trying to be.” He replied dryly. The last thing Ji-Yong, was feeling at the moment, was amused.  
  
 _Tablo’s daughter._ Dear Lord. What had he been thinking?

 

To be fair, he admitted, he hadn’t _been_ thinking, not with his brain at least. He hadn’t known he was required to since he hadn’t known it was _Tablo’s daughter_.  
  
Never in his life had he felt like more of a lecherous old man, which given the fact that he was a _still_ celebrity icon, with more tween fans than EXO had had in their hey day, was quite a feat.

 

“Let’s talk about this rationally.” YG cut in, practically shoving a cup of tea at Ji-Yong, as he sat down in front of him, hands clasped between his knees, as he scrutinized the man before him.  
Contrary to popular opinion, G-Dragon, really wasn’t much of a ‘Dragon’ – he was much more like an opinionated child. He was humble and respectful, a rare feat for an Idol of his level, and well known for his generosity. Which among, other reasons was exactly why he’d agreed to allow him to be in charge of Haru’s upcoming album.  
  
It had never occurred to him or Tablo, for that matter that Ji-Yong, would ever refuse.

 

“Ji-Yong-ah, she is exceptionally talented. She deserves a chance to shine, and you could help her – we both know that –“  
  
“Give her to Teddy.” Ji-Yong, suggested calmly. Having finally had his ‘talk’, with him earlier about his plans for the group and the comeback, offering up his most trusted advisor was quite the sacrifice – but one he was willing to make as long as he could get him off his back about _her_.  
  
The last thing he needed was to be her producer. Day in, day out with a definitely not ‘little’ Haru, especially, after the flood of baser instincts she’d just trigged on stage was not something he was willing to subject himself to.

 

“I can’t,” sighed YG, dejectedly, cradling his face in his palms.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because that was the deal.” He admitted reluctantly. Ji-Yong’s pointedly arched brow forcing him to elaborate – “Tablo, flat out refused to let her debut. Do you know how many people have been scouting her? SM offered her a separate contract, where she would get to keep over seventy percent of her earnings. SM! And that is just the tip of the iceberg – she’s been scouted back in the States as well – and you know what Tablo said every time? Not a Fucking chance in hell.”  
  
“Then how, pray tell, did he agree to this?”

“Because of you.” Admitted YG reluctantly, lighting up a cigarette and taking a sharp drag before he elaborated. “Tablo, wasn’t going to let Haru debut at _all_ – I offered to personally oversee her production, and he told me he didn’t trust me as far as he could throw me. “

 

“Smart man.”  
  
“The only producer, he was even willing to consider was _you_. He trusts you – Haru has been tight with Young Bae for years now, and Tablo knows you. That is the only reason he agreed to this. The deal, is you sign on as her producer, or her debut is off the table.”  
  


One long finger carefully tracing the rim of his porcelain teacup, Ji-Yong, looked up and asked almost chillingly, “And this is my problem – _how_?”

  
  
* * *

 

It wasn’t often that Yang Hyun-suk, came out personally to the studio – less so, when it came to delivering bad news. But, For some reason – he was there that morning.  
  
5 A.M. sharp – despite that fact that it was the day after an awards show, and after parties that had lasted well into the wee hours of the night.

 

“ _Miane_ , Haru – I know how badly you wanted to work with him. Regardless, you know there is always a place for you here at YG – always.”  
  
Haru smiled, distractedly – _well, wasn’t this awkward at all._  
  
To be honest, she wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to feel – part of her actually felt relieved, because as much as she wanted to work with him, she’d also been terribly afraid of falling short in his estimation. She wondered briefly if she already had, and if that was why he’d refused to train her.  
  


Her confidence wavering ever so slightly for the first time in years, she found herself asking YG, as he turned to leave, “Did he say why _, Samchon?”_

 

Only to have him, turn back ever so slightly, before he shook his head reluctantly, while seemingly distracted by something on his phone.  
  


“I see. Well, thank you, for trying.” She added, swiftly, looking down as she executed a perfect bow, while biting down furiously on her lower lip. _This, was not how she had seen things going._  
  
 _“But...”_

 

But?  
  
A soft ping, resonated through the empty practice room. It was her phone she realized, her hand automatically going to her back pocket.

 

_5-27 Gisan-ri Ildong-myeon, Pocheon_

 

 

Only to look back up at him as she realized who the message was from.

  
“Maybe you should ask him.” He suggested, giving her an encouraging smile as he ducked out.  
  
 _Maybe she would._

 

 

* * *

_5-68 Gisan-ri Ildong-myeon, Pocheon_

_Seungri’s Penthouse._

* * *

  
  
It’d been a long journey.  
  
Sometimes, he’d wondered if it would ever end. Hell, sometimes he’d even wished it would.  
  
He’d considered relocating to Japan permanently at one point. Like Daesung Hyung, had. It would have made sense – in terms of his solo career, much like D-lite, ‘Victory’ was a bigger star across the ocean than he was in his own country.  
  
Not that that really counted for much, given that they still seemed to maintain God-like status on both coasts.  
  
He’d even gone as far as speaking to Daesung about it once.  
  
The man with the invisible eyes, and life size smile, had asked him just on thing, “Do you really think it would ever be home?”  
  
He’d wanted to say yes.  
  
And yet, that would have been a bald lie – and they both knew it.

 

It was probably, why Daesung had made his way back to Korea a couple of years ago, opting to instead travel for his tours, and splitting his time her between producing  his own music and travelling.  
  
Or maybe it was because after having his heart broken by a fellow Japanese Idol, Daesung had just needed the comfort of home. Not the country necessarily, but the surroundings, the people, the friends and maybe even the dreams he’d left behind. Or maybe it was just one person. Tabi Hyung had been looking a hell of a lot better since he’d returned – a lot less art house angsty, and a lot more T to the O to the P – Daesung had always been the one person he was closest to.

 

As for himself, what he did know, was that here a couple a blocks down from G, and the boys, with his beautiful wife sleeping in his arms, in the heart of Seoul – this world was all he knew. And it was really all he wanted to know.  
  
His eyes drifted over to the corner of his room where his platinum records hung, on a back drop of old Big Bang posters.  
  
Well, maybe not everything. Maybe they still had a couple album’s in them.  
  
Maybe. _Just maybe_.  
  


 

* * *

_YG Studio’s  
Big Bang’s Personal  Alcove_

* * *

  
  
His hands running carelessly over the booth’s sound knobs, Taeyang – hummed softly to himself.  
  
He’d just released his seventh solo album this year – and given the fact that the title track Soul Scars was still in the top 10 of the Melon Chart after over four months – he’d have to admit he wasn’t doing too badly.  
  
And yet – it wasn’t quite enough.  
  
He’d been watching Ji-Yong, while he watched Haru perform today,

 

God did that girl make him feel old sometimes. He could still remember her scrambling around with Tablo, backstage at their YG performances.

 

But truth be told, it wasn’t Haru that had him taking a stroll down memory lane right now.

 

He’d known Ji for most of his life now, he’d watched him go from the talented, if slightly cocky kid to an iconic group leader, and K-pop legend in his own right.  
  
And today, at his tribute award, he realized how much he’d missed all of that insanity the past year. It wasn’t even just Ji-Yong he missed, he missed all of them. He missed having that sense of family.  
  
Never, quite having one of his own – he did tend to attach himself to ’other’s’ quite diligently. Interestingly, this last year in America, it had been the young violinist that had shocked his best-friend yesterday with her little announcement, that had been his closest confidante.   
  
Barely of legal age, if she was even that - and yet, she had a soul that was older than his own. Oh she could be a child at times, sassy, spirited, and just a bit of a princess - but then when you really spoke to her, you'd realize how deep her still waters ran. She was firm in her convictions, unshakeable, and yet at the same time she was always open to change when she knew she had more to learn.   
  
She was, as she would say, quoting that idiotic vampire show she'd make him watch with her, 'A cookie - who hadn't quite finished baking.'   
  
Maybe, they were too. Maybe, they were all cookies, despite their age, and the decades worth of exposure that made him feel even older than he was.

 

Maybe, just maybe, this comeback was what they needed to finally figure it all out.  
  
  


* * *

_5-27 Gisan-ri Ildong-myeon, Pocheon_

_The Dragon’s Lair_

* * *

 

It had been a while since Ji-yong had been up in the morning let alone, at this god-forsaken hour.  He peeked blearily at the old school clock hanging on his mantel, in disbelief yet again, before rolling off the corner of the couch he’d evidently fallen asleep on.  
  
6 A.M.

 

On a bloody Sunday.  
  


After that shock inducing  performance, and three bottles of his vintage bourbon.  
  
Someone better be dead, he groused – as he shoved his arms into the crisp white Armani shirt he’d managed to divulge himself of at some unfortunate point, along with most of his formal wear, with the fortunate exception of his trousers, and the half-undone leather suspenders hanging from his waist.

  
Rubbing his thumb roughly against the bridge of his nose as he opened the door, Ji-Yong looked up only to realize that despite his disputes with Young Bae, evidently there _was_ a God.  
  
And judging from the determined look in the almost feline slant of his guest’s eyes – God, had one _hell_ of a sense of humor.

  
* * *

How Ji-Yong found himself, seated at his kitchen counter, with a disgusting glass of egg yolk, tomato juice and ‘hair of the dog’ as Haru so generously put it, in front of him – while she cradled a piping hot mug of freshly brewed coffee – was still pretty much a blur.  
  
To be honest, he wasn’t even sure he’d invited her in, much less asked her to make herself comfortable in his kitchen, not that she seemed to give a jot.

 

 Sliding the offending mug of hell gruel away from himself, Ji-Yong cast a longing glance at the second mug of freshly brewed coffee, behind her – which she promised him once he downed her idiotic dog-concoction.  
  
“Coffee as soon as you’re done with your hangover cure.’ She chirped brightly, leaning over the counter and pushing the mug back where it had been.  
  
Grimacing, Jiyong sniffled cautiously at the rim, before blanching – only to be treated to a soft uncontrolled laugh laced with the same huskiness that had sucker punched him at the awards the night before.  
  
“Don’t try to smell it _Oppa,_ you have to one-shot it – soju style.” She quipped.  
  
“You really should stop calling me that.” He mumbled, before he closed his eyes and did as the young lady suggested.  
  
 _One-shot._  
  
“What? Calling you Oppa?” she replied seemingly taken aback, “You’re the one who used to tell my Dad you loved it when I called you _Oppa_.”

 

Still grimacing, as he reached behind her to grab his own cup off Coffee, Ji-Yong, took a slow measured sip, before stating blandly, “You _used to be_ , a five year old, who didn’t know about hangover cures.”  
  
“Six year old actually,” she corrected, her soft smile telling him she was immune to the chilling displeasure that generally worked so well on the people he wanted to discourage.  
  
“Does it matter?” he asked, the nonchalance in his voice almost  tangible, as he made his way, out of the kitchen, only to lounge almost gracelessly in his plush leather sofa, as he flicked through entertainment magazine in front of him.  
  
He was being an ass.  
  
He just hoped he was being enough of an ass to get her to leave. Haru showing up first thing in the morning, had been rattling enough, he was not up to her trying to convince him to sign on as her producer –which, he was absolutely certain was why she was here.  
  
He also knew, that it was most probably YG himself, who’d handed him over – how else would she have his new address, he’d only moved in to this penthouse a couple of months ago, he was pretty sure Tablo didn’t have the address – and the only people who knew he’d refused to take her on were Young Bae and YG, and he doubted Young Bae would give him up this easily.  
  
Child protégée his ass, the damn chit was straight up terrifying – who the hell smiled like that at someone who’s been taking digs at you for the past hour, while serving them hangover cures.

 

And there it was again, that soft, all knowing smile.  
  
“It seems to matter enough for you to refuse a once in a lifetime opportunity.”  
  
“The opportunity being you?” he scoffed.  
  
“The opportunity being an award winning violin protégé who was vocally trained by some of the best singers in the industry. But in other words, yes – the opportunity being me.”  
  
He had to give it to her, the damn chit had balls of steel. Arching a perfectly groomed eyebrow, as he replied in a slow almost condescending voice, “I’m not interested – I’ve already told YG. And like you said, with your ‘talents’ I’m sure there are plenty of other people who are.”

 

“But if I’d wanted ‘other people’ I wouldn’t have waited twelve years for you, now would I, _Oppa_?”


	6. How NOT to be a Gentleman

 

* * *

_5-27 Gisan-ri Ildong-myeon, Pocheon_

_The Dragon’s Lair_

* * *

 

“So.”  
  
Ji-Yong looked up, above the rim of the cup of French Roast coffee that he’d been cradling, his eyes meeting hers – when had she grown up so much? The very thought that this was the same little girl who would visit him in his dressing room and tell him stories about mermaids was still something he couldn’t quite get his head around.  
  
Frustration thrumming though his veins, yet again – he took one final sip, before, placing his cup down, on the marble top table in front of him, and repeating pointedly –

 

“So?”

 

And goddammit if she didn’t bloody smile.

 

It was unnerving, how that one soft smile, that haunted the corners of her mouth, desperately made him want to smile back, well that or envision much more enjoyable ways to get her to stop smiling.

 

_Chakkamanyo. No. Focus Jiyong. God Bloody Dammit._

 

This was some sort of karmic punishment, it had to be – nothing else made sense.  
  
Drawing in a deep breath, Ji forced himself to look back up, and repeated, in a voice infinitely more steady than this heartbeat at the moment –

 

“I don’t really have time for games, so let’s make this simple - what do you want, Haru?”  
  
Bright wide-eyes, the color of burnt honey, looked back at him, and for half a second, Ji-yong was almost sure he’d imagined the way her sense of calm seemed to seep into them, an almost ethereal sense of serene certainty.

 

It was as if he’d asked her if the sun rose in the east, or if stars shone in the night sky.  
  
And then it was there again – that ghost of smile, that seemed to taunt him – as if this child, was telling him without even resorting to words, how simpleminded his question was.  
  
_“You.”_  
  


* * *

_YG Studio’s  
Underground Employee Only Entrance_

* * *

 

 

“ _Upar ka kamra khali hain kya? I said unhand me this instant you pack of tuxedo-ed worms!”_

 

Taeyang, blanched visibly at the chalkboard screech that pierced silent the YG car park.  
  
Stepping, back from his car, Taeyang found himself, walking almost automatically, towards the sound of an obviously displeased young lady and, if her ‘pack of tuxedo-ed worms’ was anything to go by the, YG security staff, having a bit of an altercation.  
  
“Ma’am, we’re really going to have to ask you to leave.”

 

“I am telling you for the umpteenth time, you buffon, I am not some idiot fan, I work here. Call the damn director – or that guy, the one with the nasally voice... Hyung Sook, I think – “  
  


“We’ve already told you we can’t call the CEO because of a crazy saesang!” exclaimed, one of the guards, in horrified, accented English – while one of the men cowering behind him, held a hand over his cheek defensively.

 

_Well, this was certainly interesting._  
  
 It reminded him vaguely, of the time Seungri had led a group of Saesangs right to the dorms, unintentionally of course, not that that had helped matters. One of them had showed up dressed as a maid and actually made it past security, only to be caught by their then Housekeeper.  
  
“Jan-Hyuk-sshi?”  
  
 Positioning himself directly behind what seemed to be the source of all the commotion, Taeyang carefully braced himself and, waited patiently. The whole ‘ _saesang_ ’ issue had died down quite a bit in the past ten years, but there were always a few strays.  
  
If he was right, the girl would most probably rush him, and in doing so give the security staff a legitimate reason to have her removed.  
  
_Just another day in the life._

 

* * *

_5-27 Gisan-ri Ildong-myeon, Pocheon_

_The Dragon’s Lair_

* * *

_What did she want?_  
  
Really?

 

_He still had to ask?_  
  
_To be fair,_ she admitted _, she had been asking herself the same question lately._  
  
Twelve years was a long time – and it wasn’t as if she was oblivious to the borderline insanity she was courting by ‘loving’ a man who saw her as little more than a precocious child.  
  
But, what other option did she have?

 

_Pretend her heart didn’t skip a beat every time she looked at him for the rest of her life?_  
  


_Because of arbitrary social norms?_

 

_Why?_  
  
Maybe someday, she would. Maybe one day she would bend to all the rhyme and reason, while her heart broke.

 

Or maybe one day she wouldn’t need to – but for now for this moment – she was going to find a way to make this impossibly stubborn man bend for her first.  
  
“You.” She repeated, her eyes dancing with mirth as she watched him blanch visibly at her bluntness.  
  
He tightened his lips, “I’m not interested.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
He arched a brow at the deliberate double entendre, “So I presumed, when you decided to show up _here_ at this ungodly hour. Unfortunately, I’m still not interested. And I really do have places to be – so if that’s all, I’ll leave first?”

 

Someone was in a hurry, Haru noted –

  
“You do realize, all I want is for you to agree to sign on as my producer.” _For now._  
  
“I do.” He drawled, with an excruciating lack of interest, as he made his way across the room to browse though his coat rack.

 

“And, yet you are choosing to be an asshat because?”

 

“An ‘asshat’ – is that the kind of language you’ve been picking up at Julliard?”  
  


“That was just a bonus – for the most part I was picking up how to be a world class violinist.”

 

“So I’ve heard.”

 

“Didn’t you use to tell Young Bae Oppa, that you would give your right arm to compose for someone with a background in the classics as opposed to a regular idol?” she prodded.

 

Ji-yong arched a brow pointedly, almost as if to ask her what her point was - “I may have.” he drawled.

 

“Then why are you saying no?”

 

“Because I’m not interested- ”

 

“Yes, I heard you the first ten thousand times you said it. What, I meant was – Why not?”

 

“Because I don’t have the time babysit you through a debut. YG is better at that stuff anyway, you should talk to your Dad – maybe he’ll reconsider his ....”

  
  
“Babysit?,” Haru echoed.

 

_What an utter asshat._

 

Drawing herself up to her full height, Haru crossed her arms in front of herself, before she arched a brow to mirror his own. “I assure you, Ji-Yong-sshi,” she replied, her voice dripping with ice, “I do _not_ require parental care – _all_ I am asking is that in consideration of the fact that I spent over ten thousand hours perfecting my ability to dance, play the violin and sing simultaneously, combined with my father’s arbitrary condition that the only way I’d be debuting in South Korea, would be if it was under your supervision – that you agree to be my ‘producer’ even if it’s merely in name only so that I can send any ‘records’ you used to have to the molten depths of oblivion’s purgatory.”  
  
Ji-Yong, nodded sagely, before, carefully drawling,“Ambitious.”  
  
He looked straight at her, fiery amber eyes, meeting bruised topaz -   
  


“I’m afraid it’s still a no.”

 

* * *

_YG Studio’s  
Underground Employee Only Entrance_

* * *

 

 

She knew that voice. A sense of vague recognition distracting her momentarily Ayaat Siddiqui, found herself turning around abruptly, only to find herself facing a disturbingly hot man with quite possibly the oddest hairstyle she’d seen on a man, or anything else for that matter, in her entire life.  
  
And people said the youth were bad.  
  


Shaking her head slightly, while her nose wrinkling in disapproval, Ayaat turned back to the task at hand – This was beyond frustrating at this point - _How_ had she managed to get herself stranded in front of her new office building minus her passport, her phone, and her wallet – not to mention the half a binder worth of employment contracts she’d had to sign.

_"Ahem."_

  
Oh yes  - by being her usual idiot self.  Not only had she decided to reject the company car for her first meeting, in her obviously misplaced enthusiasm to immerse herself in the Korean way of life – she’d decided that she would take a bus. She also managed to leave everything but the DSLR hanging around her neck on said bus – a fact she only realized, once she’d made her way to the building.  
  
_Aissh._

 

_“Ahem.”_  
  
Ignoring the oddly familiar stranger, she decided to plunge on, “Look,” she repeated, desperation tingeing her plea as she looked down at her wristwatch. ” I really don’t have time for this – I have a board meeting to attend in less than ten minutes, which means your _Sajang-nim_ is waiting for me upstairs. Comprende? Just call him, hell call his secretary! I’m a – “

_"Ahem."_  
  
“How many times do you want us to tell you – You can’t go up, and we can’t call up to the CEO!”

  
  
_“Ahem.”_

 

Seriously? SERIOUSLY? Was chivalry dead?  
  
What on earth happened to all those icons of perfection from the Korean Drama’s she’d binge-watched every summer until Song Joon Ki and Park Bo Gum’s perfect smiles had convinced her that she needed to find a way to the land of perfect gentlemen.  
  
Instead what did she end up with?

 

Men who wouldn’t recognize _Aeygo_ if it bit them in the ass and a decidedly impatient, vaguely familiar individual with a traumatizing hairstyle.  
  
Mentally stomping her foot in frustration, Ayaat looked up at the ridiculously over lit garage lights, as she drew in a deep breath and attempted to reason with the trio of men who seemed to think they were Yang Hyun Suk’s personal Queen’s Guard.  
  
And she did mean Queen – the man was a straight up diva, which is why she just knew that he was going to be horrible about this little incident if she didn’t make it in.  
  


“Do you realize how ridiculous you are being? I could lose my job, because of this, man, seriously – just _ask_!”  
  
“Ma’am, we’re not calling upstairs and this –“  
  


 

_“Ahem.”_  
  
  


“Can you not, just wait your turn?” Ayaat snapped, her already frayed temper finally making an appearance, as she turned back to the stranger with the oh-so familiar voice and extremely greasy hair, only to step back awkwardly as he handed her his phone.  
  
She looked down distractedly.  
  
His ringing phone.

  
Wait a minute, his previously ringing, phone on speaker apparently.  
  
And just as she was bout to lift her head to ask the moppet haired stranger exactly what he was doing, an unmistakably nasal tone echoed in the empty garage entrance, _“Hello?”_  
  
  
Wait, was that....  
  


* * *

_5-27 Gisan-ri Ildong-myeon, Pocheon_

_The Dragon’s Lair_

* * *

 

 

For the first time in his life Ji-Yong began to suspect he had severely underestimated, the effort Seungri put into maintaining his poker face.  
  
Watching, seemingly nonchalantly, as Haru, spent the past hour going from _aeygo_ incarnate, to frustrated femme fatale – was seriously testing his ability to keep a straight face.  
  
It was only once she took a ‘break’ to go ‘help her _Bae_ ’ out with some convoluted scenario she spouted at him at breakneck speed, that he didn’t even bother to pretend to hear, that he actually allowed himself a slight smile.

 

This girl, had Seungri’s persistence, Dara’s charm, C.L.’s sass – and then some. He could barely wait to see what YG made of her, once she did debut.  
  
In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been caught off guard with those extremely awkward thoughts he’d had before she’d revealed herself to be Tablo’s daughter, he’d had nabbed her for the BigBang Production label in a heartbeat.  
  
She was the epitome of everything the band wanted in a singer, charisma, talent, and an amazing sense of confidence.  
  
Too bad this was probably the last he was going to see of her. Lifting his glass of Moet carefully in the air, Kwon Ji-yong, pretended quite convincingly, not to wonder exactly who her ‘ _Bae_ ’ in question was.  
  
There were after all lines one did not cross in this industry – and this was one of them.   

 

* * *


	7. Ten Percent of Everything

 

                                                                    

 

 

 

“My Manager? You told her you were my Manager?” Haru repeated for the fifth time, as if repeating the statement would somehow help lower the ridiculousness of situation.

Why a grown man, who happened to be an international celebrity, would decide to lie about something that could so easily be verified – *cough* Google *cough*, was beyond her.

Maybe the entire group was crazy, she thought, thinking back to her conversation with Ji-yongie Oppa earlier.

 

They obviously weren’t very rational.

 

Well, except for Daesung Oppa she admitted, who was staring at Bae, as if he’d sprouted an extra pair of ears.

“And she believed you? Are you sure?” he asked, his tone implying he was just as baffled with his band-mates sudden lack in common sense. Being after all Bingu was usually T.O.P. Hyung’s forte.

Haru sighed deeply, burying her face in her hands for a second -

 

“For now – she seems to. I don’t think she’s much of a K-Pop fan,” Young Bae added defensively.

“Hyung! She’s signing on to work for YG – I think it’s safe to say she knows Big Bang – at best she probably just didn’t recognize you in the moment.”

“She doesn’t.” insisted Young Bae stubbornly, looking to Haru for support.

Haru mentally rolled her eyes, while she looked back over at Daesungie Oppa who seemed utterly appalled by his normally sensible Hyung’s teenage petulance.

 

Obviously, logic wasn’t going to work here. For all his smiles, reasoning with Young Bae was never a process that benefitted anyone, least of all those who happened to disagree with him.

“Right – so to sum up this utterly bizarre conversation, you want Haru to pretend to be your artist for the foreseeable future so that you can pretend to be a ‘normal’ manager. What makes you think she’d give you the time of day as a manager anyway, didn’t you say she was part of the international legal team?” asked Daesung, still utterly baffled by the sheer ridiculousness of the proposition.

Pretending to be a non-celebrity, in another country, was something that worked, sometimes – and still, not all the time. Pretending to be a non-celebrity in Seoul, before they possibly launched their own comeback, while the person they were hiding it from happened to work for YG  Entertainment, itself was a recipe for disaster.

 

“That’s the beauty of it Dae – I get to know her as a regular person. And I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not impossible. Look, YG doesn’t promote us with poster’s anymore – it’s just the group name that goes up on billboards and all promotional flyers. She won’t see my face on poster’s, as Haru’s manager I have a legit reason to be hanging around the building pretty much anywhere, and can get into recording whenever necessary. By the time it’s time for our launch, I’ll have gotten to know her well enough, and can tell her who I am without having to worry about her seeing me as just another ‘celebrity’.”

 

“It sounds ridiculous, Hyung.” Repeated Daesung, looking over at Haru for support as he pointed out the obvious.

 

“D –“ Taeyang was dead serious, he’d learned the hard way that being a ‘KPop Icon, made him little more than a mark to most of the people he dated, it was probably why GD and Senguri used to only date foreigners – because the marginally lower star power they carried over the border, helped people see them as more ‘normal’ people.

 

Five years ago, when he’d come back early from a schedule, only to walk in on his manager and his then fiancé, Min Hyorin in an uncomfortably intimate embrace had showed him just how terrifying being considered less than human could be.

 

”I just want to get to know her for a while first, you know how hard it can be to find a genuine person who sees you as more than a celebrity.”

“It won’t work,” cut in Haru. “Even if we were to agree, it won’t work, because Jiyong-ie Oppa won’t sign me, which means I can’t work for the label or YG. Which means I have no reason to be here, ergo, you have no reason to be there, Manager-nim.”

 

“Well, there we go then.” Pronounced Daesung with blatant relief as he shoved himself out of his chair, and made a quick grab for his jacket, as if he was desperately attempting to escape, before the insanity resurfaced.

Unfortunately for him however, as soon had he stood up to leave, the door to studio creaked open and in walked the one person guaranteed to complicate any given situation, at any given point in time.

 

* * *

 

To say Senguri had had a long day, would be an understatement.

As much as he adored his wife, she was far from the bundle of joy she was when he’d married her. Not that he was stupid enough to say that, he’d learned his lesson when he’d questions her ‘need’ to eat lemon sorbet with pickles, early on during the second trimester.

Five hours of watching his normally saintly wife, alternating between every human emotion known to mankind, had taught Senguri that there was something to be said about giving pregnant women a wide berth when they were in the midst of having violent mood swings. Although why she felt the need to stay up all night so they could walk off the ‘baby-weight’ was beyond him, it asn’t as if the baby was coming out any time soon, she might as well just wait till the thing popped out.

It was at that moment, while he silently began to question the sanity of the entire female race, that Senguri opened the Studio door, only to find himself faced with an very relived Daesung, shrugging into his jacket as he made his way out the door, while Haru and Young Bae Hyung sat dejectedly on the sofa, cradling their heads in their hands in what seemed to be absolute desolation.

 

“Wait - What did I miss?”

 

* * *

It wasn’t as if Taeyang didn’t know that he sounded like he was absolutely crazy. He did. But then again, insanity was a way of life for the member’s of Big Bang. And like they said, you can’t live life from the sidelines, yes it was a risk, and yes it could backfire, and leave him looking like utter pabo, but for the first time in years he was okay with all of that.

 

Something as simple as being ignored in favor of a phone call, had made him feel more human than he had felt in years.

He missed that feeling.

Haru, was still young and despite being a celebrity child, shielded from the harshness of the spotlight in many ways. But, he knew Dae understood – even if he did think the plan was certifiably insane. But then again, Dae had never been t one to risk it all – D, played it safe, always.

Ever since that accident decades ago, Daesung had withdrawn into himself in a way none of the other members had been able to prevent. He should know, he’d spent months trying to coax him into simply talking to him, in vain.

He was better now, more lively, more relaxed even – but if one looked beyond the surface it was always just an act. Ironically, despite his own constant ‘pretense’ Daesung hated lies. He hated being one to tell them, and he hated being told them – which was why in a way Young Bae had expected his disapproval.

 

To be honest, it changed nothing for him.

 

He’d decided what he was going to do the second he realized that not only hadn’t he been recognized, but that in all likelihood, he wouldn’t be treated any different even if he had.  That girl seemed to treat YG with the same distracted charm that she treated the security guard’s downstairs. 

Ten years ago, he would have been subtle about it. He’d worry about fans and he’d worry about the irony he was courting in lying to gauge a woman’s honest reaction to himself – but he’d grown up a lot since then.

Having the love of your life tell you that you’d never really seemed ‘real’ to her, as an excuse for why she was wrapped in the arms of your own manager tended to do that to you.

There would however always be some people who would disagree – he looked up at Daesung, and watched the discreet sigh relief he breathed, as Haru pointed out that without Jiyong’s approval, his spur of the moment attempt to play Hannah Montanna was going to go up in flames.

 

* * *

 

Ah, chincha man – Haru was having a hard time as it was trying to convince Ji-Yong Oppa, adding Bae’s little melodrama to the mix was literally turning this into a recipe for disaster.

Not only did she have to get Ji to agree, she now had to do so while being discreet, and pretending that Bae was her manager – in a building full of YG artists.

At this point, nothing short of a miracle was going to fix any of this –

 

“Wait- What did I miss?”

 

Haru felt more than saw, Bae groan, as the other member’s voice broke into the awkward silence.

This day was just getting better and better.

Aiish.

 

* * *

 

By the time Haru was done explaining the ‘situation’ at hand – she was convinced she’d managed to end up in some warped version of a Hong Sister’s Drama. She was also pretty convinced that the most reckless member of Big Bang thought she was certifiable.

 

Although, to be fair aside from a few pointed looks at Young Bae, and a much too smug grin when she explained Bae’s little ‘fib’ – he’d been a model citizen. Knowing him, she’d expected him to roast Bae in an inferno of sass.

Instead, not only had he silently sat through ‘story time’, he seemed to be deciding on something while he listened.

A long minute later, Senguri stood back up – fingering his car keys, as he asked -

“Tell me something, Haru – if I were to offer to sign you onto Label G instead, how would you convince me to do it?”

What a nonsensical question.

But then again what part of this entire day hadn’t been odd. It wasn’t the question that bugged her though, something about the way he’d asked the question told Haru he wasn’t being entirely flippant.

She looked up at him curiously, slowly, carefully allowing her eyes to take in the person before her. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, while a stubble shadowed his jaw, telling her that he was tired, more tired than he let on – even to the other members. Which on turn told her that despite the being together for almost twenty years, the maknae of the group was still used to putting up a front for the Hyungs.

But despite his little façade, there was a glitter in his eye that screamed confidence – as if he had a more than just a pair of aces up his sleeves, and was testing her to see if she was worth throwing them down.

He wasn’t oblivious to her scrutiny either, one brow arching tauntingly, “What’s in it for me, Kiddo?” he stage-whispered, ignoring the fact that Young Bae had seemed to recover marginally from his embarrassment and was watching him with more than a little curiosity.  

 

Despite the frivolous nature of the question, her gut-feeling told her not to take it lightly. She had an answer. The only question was whether or not she dared to voice it -

Why not. Squaring her shoulders as she drew herself up to her full, if dimunitve height, Haru answered.

“Remember how Jiyong Oppa made your life a living hell the first few months you were a trainee, and how you’ve vowed to make him rue the day?”

“It was well before you were born, but yes I remember...”

“This is how you do it. I’m his living hell. The last thing in the world G-Dragon wants to deal with is a spoilt little kid he can’t bully around as his first artist. In fact he’s gone so far as to reject me multiple times for his label – and I am, if nothing else, a great business move. I’m a 2nd generation idol, who’s talented to boot – The older audience love me, the younger audience want to be me - I am your best bet at an all kill and you know it.”

“Cocky aren’t you?”

 

“Just self-aware, lying would just be an insult to your intelligence.”

 

“Somehow, I doubt that’s high on your list of concerns. You did however get something wrong.”

He was toying with her now, but given that she honestly didn’t have a clue what he was on about, Haru decided to bite. “What did I get wrong?”

 

“He didn’t reject you from his label.”

Haru blinked. Brows furrowed in confusion – she turned to Bae, as if she expected the other man to understand his cryptic statement.

But, Young Bae’s furrowed brows, told Senguri all he needed to know – the poor sod didn’t have a clue. Not that he was surprised, he sincerely doubted that anyone but him had actually read the contract Ji-yong had passed around ten years ago at the last MADE concert.

 

It had been his way of showing the group how much he valued them, and a not so subtle hint to remember to value the group above all solo activities. To be fair it had always been treated as a more ‘ceremonial’ gesture than an actual business move – and none of the other member’s probably even remembered. But one thing that half a dozen failed ventures had taught Senguri was to always read the fine-print,

“The ‘G’ in ‘Label G’ doesn’t actually stand for G-Dragon.” He explained, the corner of his lips tilting upward as he watching realization crash into his band member over Haru’s shoulder.

 

“Seunghyun, Taeyang, Jiyong, Daesung, and Seungri. It was the only letter we all had in common – it was meant to be our red thread of fate.”

“Are you saying –“

 

“I’m saying that technically, we own the label – not Jiyong Hyung. ”

“I’m not sure that matter’s,” Taeyang interrupted, “Ji, has controlling shares, our shares are more symbolic – didn’t we insist Ji have majority control anyway? I think the rest of us agreed to something like a nominal10% each?”

Senguri smirked. Like he said, no one bothered read the fine print.

 

The young woman in front of him however, he had a feeling she would be the type who would. She was still watching him, a glint in her eye telling him she already knew there was something more to the story.

 

Bending low in an almost ninety degree bow as he brought himself level to her, Senguri whispered two words.

“Weighted voting. “

“I’m sorry what?”

Senguri smirked yet again as he watched a look of absolute confusion pass over his Hyung’s face. “You’re going to have to pick up your game if you want to date a lawyer Hyung – weighted voting, basically means our 10% doubles when it comes to any shareholder decisions, which means as long as three of us vote in favor, Ji can’t block signing her. I’m game, and you obviously are – so if the minimunchkin can pick up one more member to vote in her favor – she’ll have majority – enough to get her signed without Ji-yong Hyungs approval. And once that’s done, an accidental press release should seal the deal – we all know he won’t be able to back track once it goes public.”

“Oh. My. God.” Breathed Haru, in absolute astonishment, “That could actually work.”

She spun around to look at Young Bae, who seemed torn between tricking his best-friend into what she knew he perceived as a harmless gesture to secure his position as manager, and the guilt of going behind Ji’s back even if it was just to do something as innocuous as signing a talented idol, who he for some god-forsaken reason refused to sign.

What was it going to be?

 

* * *

Next Chapter

Dialogue Tease:

“Or I’m in a constant state of shock from your non-stop outrageousness. Does your Dad know you act like this?”

“Why? Are you going to tattle?”  
  


* * *

A/N: Law school is crazy - hence the sparse updates, however reviews are what keep me motivated, so please do drop a line! 


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